Turned On Its Head
by LLizD
Summary: Submitted for the Starvation January Challenge of *Five* Johanna Mason had a five year limit before everything turned on its head. Rated for language.


Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I affiliated with Suzanne Collins or The Hunger Games trilogy.

The story may feel a little choppy because I wrote it more as an internal monologue than prose. This is heavily and only in Johanna's POV.

Rated for language

Turned on its head

Whoever said that bad things come in threes was a fucking liar.

Sitting on the floor of my locked bathroom in District 2, my new home, I did the math. One, two, three, four… yep. Five. Five weeks. I should have known… My five years were up anyway. It was time for my world to be turned on its head.

I sighed, letting the hot breath leave my body to enter the equally hot air. District 2 was way too warm. I haven't seen a snow since before the quarter quell, and now the closest thing I can get to the cool relief winter brought was the feeling of the slick stone tile beneath my legs. This was no way to live at twenty-four.

The deathly cycle of fives was mandated before I was even born. I know the kind of person my father was, the kind of escape my mother planned. Instead a pink plus sign on a pregnancy test crushed her dreams of freedom from his hands. I understood her resentment. I would have gotten rid of me, but she didn't have that option. Instead she continued to hide the blue and purple handprints on her arms, a stark contrast to her milky white skin. She continued making excuses for her "clumsiness," while the man who fathered me continued to drink.

They say that the environment that you are born into shapes your personality in life. Mine couldn't be more accurate. My father fought with the doctor who wanted nothing more to leave. My mother just laid there, detached from the world. Detached from me. Everyone knew I was coming, but I wasn't welcome.

A siren outside my window snapped me back to the present. Five o'clock. How ironic. The sound signaling the end of the work day died down, and I sat trying to cherish the last few minutes of solitude in my day. I called out sick that morning, usually a no-no for the assistant chief in Central Intelligence, but I told them to shove it because I wasn't leaving my bathroom. I held up my end of the bargain.

Work was one of the only places I ever felt like I somewhat belonged. Since infancy I never got a feeling of comfort. I was left ignored until I was four years old. The usual nighttime activities of dinner, cleaning, yelling, fighting, throwing punches, and drinking occurred. I was left ignored, as usual, until I made the mistake of dropping a dish. The crashing sound of ceramic served as an alarm for my father, making him realize that there was another person in his house. A person who he did not like that much.

That morning, I too learned how good of a liar I was when making excuses for my own clumsiness.

I was never sorry that it happened. It was inevitable, really. If I just kept my head down long enough, it would be over soon. It did end, but not soon. I was nine years old, just starting to learn how to grip an axe properly and how to tell when a tree is ready to be cut down. It wasn't an eventful night by any means, just after my father was done with his hissy fit he left.

My mother didn't react, so I decided to do the same. From then on, I just had to clean two dinner plates instead of three. My mother started to work at the paper mill, and I started to work climbing trees to test how sound they were.

My far older coworkers looked at me with pity. _Poor little Jo, her daddy left her and her mommy doesn't care about her. What did she do to deserve it? _I hated those looks, those little whispered asides. So what did I do?

I started to deserve it.

Gone was the shy little brunette with her big brown eyes. In her place was a sassy miss thing who knew how to talk back and exactly what buttons to push. I learned how to be strong, to defend myself. To survive all alone.

So, of course, it was no surprise when exactly five years later I was chosen as District 7's female tribute. Those who didn't know me where shocked that a girl who was too small to be fourteen was being sent to die. Those who did know me didn't know what to say. My mother didn't say anything. She kissed me on the head and walked home to start preparing dinner. She only had one plate to clean from then on.

I had nothing to lose, so of course I won. I had nothing to go back for, so I didn't exactly want to.

There was a scratch at the bathroom door, followed by a faint whimper. I rolled my eyes, reaching to open it.

"I'm fine, Remy. Come here." I patted my knee, and my far too large dog sauntered over, laying next to me. He rested his head on my lap, and I scratched behind his copper colored ear. I got Remy shortly after my win. I was told that a dog would help with the feelings of paranoia. Remy was a perfect fit, and my exact opposite. While I was small and dangerous, he looked ferocious but would let you do whatever you wanted to him. Sometimes, when I would cry late at night, he would howl with me.

I was told he was a bloodhound. Appropriate.

By the time my name was announced for the quarter quell, he was the only thing I knew I was leaving behind. My mother by that point had passed away. Nothing happened; she just lost the will to live. It was almost unfortunate that I didn't get that trait from her.

Still, I left Remy in the care of a coworker, and left. There was news of unrest of course, and I really wouldn't care if I died if that meant freedom. I said yes to Haymitch, and agreed to lay down my skin in order to keep that scrawny self-righteous brat and her pudgy blonde lover alive. I mean, to make sure The Mockingjay survived.

I was happy to die for the cause. I made sure that under capture, I would not break. I didn't even know that could electrocute parts of me that they did. I would never let anyone know, but I was scared. I was scared in a way that I had never been before, not with my father's belt, my mother's abandonment, or even with the Capitol's sick Games. The site of water made my body release its own waters, and I sat, humiliated, as they tortured me more.

I actually thought it would be over soon. I kept my head down, and it was going to be done. But then, five years after my name was drawn for the 71st Hunger Games, my world spun again. Those rebels fucking rescued me.

It took a few days for me to be coherent, but I came around soon enough to those disgusting stares of pity. I showed them my usual self and they left me alone. All except one.

"You really aren't that much of a bitch." The tall brunette said. He was leaning against the wall next to my bed.

"Your Katniss's kissing cousin, right?" I asked in response. He smirked in response.

"The family resemblance is overwhelming." I moved my legs so he could hit at the bottom of my bed. "I get it though, if you start out not pleasing anyone, you don't have to worry about disappointment."

"I kind of have no one to disappoint. I only left a dog behind back home, and he has probably forgotten about me." I replied, but without any bite.

He shrugged, "Probably."

"Aside from the heartwarming advice, why exactly are you here?" I asked after a moment of silence.

"I wanted to meet the infamous Johanna Mason."

"I'm infamous now? Or are you just trying to get in my pants?"

"If I wanted in your pants…" He smiled, "I'd be there by now." The handsome brunette turned to leave.

He go to the doorway before I called out, "This isn't over yet, gorgeous." I didn't even have to see his face to know he was smiling.

Our flirtations continued despite the usual setbacks of us both being psychologically damaged, him still pining for our fearless Mockingjay, and the fact that we were fighting a revolutionary battle that we weren't entirely sure that we would win.

I was surprised that when we finally did win, I felt nothing. Neither did Gale, I could see it in his eyes. We both feared that the war took away our ability to feel. That night we took our flirtations that step farther, and finally tore off each other clothes and clawed at each other in hopes to uncover our own emotions.

It became habit which was made even more convenient when we both got jobs in District two. I knew everyone wanted the Mockingjay's handsome right hand man as their head of defense. I took a position offered in intelligence, and relished at not having to do manual labor ten hours a day.

I only stopped back home to smell the pine trees one last time and to pick up Remy. I didn't think I would miss him at all, let alone miss him as much as I did. Gale couldn't understand why I would keep a dog as a pet when they make good stew. I refused to sleep with him for a week.

After a few months, our habit of each other grew into affection. He started staying the night at my place and almost started to like Remy. In return, I stopped flirting with every other handsome guy I met. None held my interest like Gale anyway.

A year and we didn't want to remember life without each other. You could have someone that is there for you and is fantastic in bed, but while Gale was all that, he was more. He understood. He knew what it was to be damaged because he was damaged himself. He knew my devotion to this new world because he was also right there, putting his cause about his own life and the wants of anyone else. Neither of us lived blamelessly, but we didn't blame. We found home.

Now, I sat on the cold tile floor of a bathroom that smelled too much like bleach. My five years were up. I knew it was going to happen, but I didn't want it to get to me. The front door opened softly, but I didn't get up to greet.

Instead after a few minutes, Gale walked into the bathroom, a concerned look on his face.

"Hey Jo. Feeling any better?"

I shook my head, "No, and it will get worse." Gale looked confused, and I just wanted to get it over with. I held up the small white stick with the pink plus sign on the end. "So, I'm pregnant…"

The world stopped for a moment. He should have left me. I wouldn't have blamed him.

"Wow… shit." He breathed out, sliding down to sit next to me. He stared at the test as though it would tell him what to say next. Gale didn't say anything though. He was just as terrified as I was. We knew we weren't ready, and we were almost damaged beyond repair. Still, unlike what happened twenty five years ago, he held my hand. We were a united front. Together. Johanna and Gale, and our world was just turned on its head.


End file.
